You're not shy Miss Weasley
by That-Spoons-Girl
Summary: What if...Ginny Weasley was Lucius Malfoys personal Secretary?


Then he saw her. He stopped for a second, taking in and evaluating her appearance. Ginny held her breath when His gaze paused on her 'executive' hairstyle...then let it out again when He gave her a quick nod and gestured for her to come and stand beside him. She hurried around the desk and stood at his right as He seated Himself again.

He was sitting in one of those fancy executive swivel-chairs and facing the monitor, which immediately drew her attention. It was filled with a number of smaller windows—charts, graphs, documents-and she had no idea what any of them meant, but they were colourful to look at.

He turned to look at Ginny. "Ginny, why don't you take a look at these reports and see if you can give me a quick summary, all right?"

He was pointing to a completely vacant area of his desk, right in front of where she was standing. Ginny stared back at him, utterly bewildered. "The print is kind of tiny," He continued, taking her by the elbow and pulling her down toward the desk, "Don't strain your eyes."

By now He had her hands and elbows flat on the desk, and Ginny suddenly understood that He was instructing her to take a specific pose—one with which she was extremely familiar. And when she felt his warm, dry fingers brush casually against the back of her nylon-covered knee she knew why He had done so...and shuddered deliciously. His hand was now under her skirt and sliding sensuously up the back of her thigh. He stroked her with just the lightest touch of His fingertips—first the back, then the inside of her thigh, just high enough to give her a quivering sensation between her legs and cause her to breathe a little harder. She felt Him tracing the top of her stocking, then toying idly with one of the straps of her garter belt—sliding a finger under it, stretching and loosening it, occasionally pulling it out and letting it snap against her thigh hard enough to make her skin tingle there, making her gasp.

She loved the way He took possession of her, stroking and squeezing first one cheek then the other as if they belonged to Him. _Which they do_, she thought, her mouth falling open, panting, as He drew a finger slowly but firmly down between her cheeks and then just as slowly back up again.

She felt a fingertip, then several, slip under the elastic of her panties. Was He going to pull them down? Oh god, she hoped so! But no, He was pulling them _up_—he had the elastic wrapped around his fingers—and she felt the fabric of her panties crawling across her behind to bunch between her cheeks as He pulled. Then the fabric was pulled even tighter and she started to feel the pressure between her legs. Ohhh, between her lips! Tighter!...then gradually looser...then tighter, over and over in a slowly increasing rhythm. Oh god, she was getting so wet! She turned her head away and laid it on the table for fear that her gasps would be heard.

She noticed out of the corner of her eye that He was rolling His chair back from the desk, but once He was out of sight she forgot about Him. She was concentrating much too hard to notice a little thing like a button being undone or a zipper being stealthily lowered...

...Until, her skirt suddenly fell around her ankles.

He gave her a moment to recover, reached out with one hand to circle her wrist and tug her downwards. She let the paper she'd been holding fall to the floor, then knelt upright beside him—out of camera range but very conscious of the fact that her skirt was still tangled around her feet and ankles.

She felt her jacket being loosened and pushed from first one shoulder, then the other. She held her arms slightly away from her sides and let Him tug the jacket downward, one side at a time, until it fell onto the backs of her legs. She remained perfectly still as He undid and removed the bow at her neck, and then slowly—and with as much ease as if he were actually looking at her instead of the screen, and as if He were using both hands instead of just one—began to undo the buttons of her pleated white blouse. To reach the bottom buttons He had to lean ever so slightly out of his chair—but not enough to be noticeable, she thought. She pulled her shoulders back and raised her hands behind her head, offering Him her breasts as He pulled her blouse open, one side at a time, to reveal the lacy black camisole underneath.

He fondled and caressed her breasts through the fabric of her camisole for a long time, finding each nipple and gently pinching it erect between thumb and forefinger. Ginny concentrated on breathing through her nose so as not to make too much noise.

Nevertheless, she raised a hand to cover her mouth when she felt His hand insinuating itself between her thighs. She spread her legs for Him as much as the panties around her knees would allow. And when she felt His middle finger gently separating her lips and slowly but persistently make its way inside her she was glad all over again that she had covered her mouth. He penetrated her with His finger until she felt His knuckles against her behind, then just as slowly...He withdrew it. Then slid it all the way in again...then out, over and over again, the movement of His finger making moist little squishy noises which were probably inaudible anywhere else but which seemed to reverberate in the small space in which Ginny knelt. A space which seemed to be growing warmer by the second, she noticed—her make-up was beginning to run.

Then He drew her up to her feet, threw her onto the desk and plunged into her, holding her wrists above her head with both hands while He ravaged her. Ginny had never seen Him so completely lose control of Himself, and she felt a certain pride in her accomplishment. Or at least she _would_have, had there been room in her awareness for anything other than the tidal wave of pleasure which seemed to be lifting them both off of the desk and carrying them helplessly away as she met Him thrust for thrust...

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><p><strong>AN so yeah, I was watching Steven Shainberg's Secretary and just had to write a scene.**

**Peace**

**X**


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